


To Give the Devil Her Due

by SevenOceansOfInk



Category: Felarya
Genre: F/M, Having Conversations with your Meal, Predator/Prey, Size Difference, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2299460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenOceansOfInk/pseuds/SevenOceansOfInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you don't out-perform the predator. This is one of those times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Give the Devil Her Due

**Author's Note:**

> The story contains scenes of vore and size-play: a giant non-human swallowing a human character alive. Reader discretion is advised.

He put down his flute and exhaled, knowing with certainty that he failed.

There was simply nothing he could do to compare with her; he was merely a student of his artform and could claim no mastery of it. The music the towering, spider-like gerridi named Neomea played for him was so beautiful, so moving, that he knew before his reed touched his mouth that he could not succeed in winning the challenge he had-- in accordance to gerridi custom-- cornered her into accepting.

It was foolish to suggest he could out-play her. He simply did not want to die, consumed by some monster. He clung to the infinitessimal chance that she would concede defeat to him and allow him to escape her clutches. Her music, though, obliterated all thought of victory. Even his own music reflected his despair, slow and somber as she closed her eyes and listened.

Silence hung in the thick air of the swamp for some length of time. Slowly, her eyes opened, their dark centers yawning holes in the middle of a circle that seemed just as dark.

"I've failed, haven't I?" he said, trying to slow his breathing. He would not show his fear, no matter how strongly he felt it.

The gerridi regarded this curiously, her long, slender fingers sliding a lock of black hair back behind her ear. "You seem so sure. I've never met a human so confident of his failure."

"I know music well enough to know that you are talented beyond anything I could aspire to." He drew a deep breath, unable to lift his head to face her. "I... I accept defeat."

She nodded and placed her flute back into the bag that hung from around her waist. Her delicate legs moved with grace over the dingy water she stood on, her body lowering itself as she leaned towards him. "You understand what this means, right?" Her face hovered over him, long drapes of her hair hanging in wet sheets around the two of them. "You accept this, and I will devour you."

"I see nothing I can do but accept."

She smiled-- her lips thin around her mouth, the slightest edge of sharp teeth beyond them showing themselves. "You could always run."

Was she toying with him? "What would be the point?" he said, voice breaking on a breath of air. "Your arms alone are longer than I could run; you'd catch me before I could even get out of your sight!"

She nodded slowly. "I would have thought you'd try, nonetheless."

"No. No, if nothing else... I know I'm about to die." He found the composure to lift his head, eyes red with the tears he'd tried not to show her. He wiped a hand across them, drying his cheeks as he swallowed back his despair. "I know I'm going to die. I want to at least walk to my death with the grace I couldn't play with."

She smiled, too, at this; though this time there were no teeth, there was no mischief in how she looked. It was the closest thing to warmth, to kindness, he could imagine on a monster like herself. This took him by surprise, leaving him speechless as she sat herself upright once more.

Her arm unfolded towards him, the tips of her fingers plucking him from the ground. "You see, you and your kind think of mine like monsters. Savage beasts." Her other hand moved towards him and began carefully undoing his clothes, the tips of her almost needle-like fingers carefully slicing his shirt from his chest and loosening his belt buckle. "You look at us as little more than animals that consume thoughtlessly."

"That's what we've been taught," he said, feeling a chill-- he couldn't be sure if it was the moisture that hung suspended in the fog, or if it was owed to how casually she spoke of devouring his people.

"It's hardly the truth." She looked away for a moment and sighed, chest swelling and then collapsing as the air rushed out of her lungs. "You are a delicacy to me, child. While some out there would just gobble you up with hardly a thought... I wish to indulge myself with you. To know your scent, your taste."

"You talk of me as though I were some gourmet's prize dish..."

She pulled him up close to her face, his clothes-- now cut free from his body-- fluttering away at the suddenly rush of movement. "But you are to me! A treat to a palette tortured with the monotany of a dull, unappealing diet. Our home here offers us so little to enjoy, but to find creatures like yourself... that, dear, is something exceptional."

Her face filled much of his vision, the tip of her tongue darting out of her mouth to moisten her lips. The gerridi's features were at once beautiful and alien, everything about her angular and sharp as the edge of a knife. Her nose was nearly flat against her face; her eyes, too large compared to a human woman's, his reflection starting to show in her pupils. "I intend, my dear meal, to savor you as long as I can. Make no mistake, you will be my meal. But not until I have exhausted your every flavor."

"May I..."

Neomea's gaze snapped back onto him, brought back to her senses by the sound of his voice. "Excuse me?"

"Can I ask you one thing? Just one."

One corner of her mouth curled up in amusement. "Alright. Ask."

"I..." He stumbled over his words for a moment, trying to articulate his request. For a moment, he worried she would simply toss him into her mouth in impatience. After a few moments, though, it was clear she was listening with all her patience to what he wanted to say. "I want to climb into your mouth. Not placed inside, or sucked inside. I want, at least, to have control over that. Even if it's the last thing I can control."

She laughed at that; he couldn't blame her. The idea was ludicrous to him, as well. He was already doomed, though; on one hand, what did it actually matter? He would be on the other side of those lips soon enough, regardless of how he ended up behind them. It was braver though, he thought to himself, to cross that one-way threshhold himself and not be pulled over it begging uselessly for his life. "Alright," she said with a nod. "I'll give you that much."

She opened one palm below him, fingers uncurling to expose the plane of her hand. It was a surprise how soft her skin was when he landed, dropped from between her fingers. He imagined them more calloused from exposure to the natural world and its rigours. Her skin-- brown like the soil far beneath him now, with layers of blue and gray underneath-- felt as soft as any bed he'd laid on in his life, and cool against his now-bared skin.

Her hand lifted, carrying him closer to her. The gerridi's lips opened, a film of saliva stretched between them like a soap bubble until it broke into a mist that sprayed over him. Beyond, he could see the hints of her sharpened teeth, the cavern of her mouth opening up to welcome him.

Then, her tongue reached out for him.

His mind boggled at how long it was; it was easily several times his height and as thick as his shrunken form was now. He wondered where its length was stored inside her fine, pointed jaw, how all of it could fit inside such a delicate face. It didn't seem possible. In the next life, he thought to himself, perhaps I will study creatures like these. It was a dangerous proposition in a world like Felarya, he knew. Something told him, though, that a creature like this one, who thought like her, would consider obliging him without endangering him.

Maybe. For the time, at least, it was all moot. He would never know that other life personally, anyway. If there would be one, and what the temple priests told him all his life were right.

He knelt before the living bridge Neomea laid out before him, resting his hands upon it. The flesh was warm and slick; he worried he would fall off if he climbed up onto it too carelessly. Slowly, he laid himself out flat and slid his body onto her tongue, gasping at the mix of cool moisture and hot breath on his skin.

He simply laid there for a moment, breathing deeply, clinging to the muscle that held him. It curled around his presence, its edges curling up around him like short walls, pressing in from all sides but above. He could feel the gerridi's breath more strongly now, a regular current of air blowing back and forth over him. The scent of fish and salt, of herbs and spices, flooded his nose; breathing her spent air was like tasting her entire diet at once-- heady, overwhelming, and dizzying.

He wondered if she would start to pull him in, retracting her lengthy tongue back into her mouth. It seemed, however, that she was true to her word: he would be allowed to enter her waiting mouth of his own volition. Gathering himself, he grabbed firm hold of the sides of her tongue and pulled himself forwards, sliding over the slick surface as he inched closer to her open mouth.

Below, he could see her throat tremble, the low rumble of a moan sounding outwards from her mouth. He shivered, realizing how much of a taste of him she must be getting.

At last, he reached her lips. She'd closed her mouth some, bringing them closer together-- her upper lip brushed up against his spine, followed by the sharpened points of her teeth. Their tips scratched over his skin, drawing a few drops of blood. These fell to her tongue, drawing another sudden sigh of pleasure out of the gerridi.

Her patience exhausted itself; she seemed satisfied that she held to the terms he imposed. The tongue he lay on pulled itself into her mouth, lips closing up behind him. Everything became dark as pitch, with nothing to indicate up and down except the constant rush of her breath, rushing up from her throat before plunging back down.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness in time to watch the woman's tongue curl around him, its edges rising like cliffs to surround the valley he lay in. The muscle was like a heavy blanket wrapping around him, squeezing his body as though she could wring the juice from him like a slice of fruit.

She slid him forward and back, her mouth filled with a low rumble of sound; the audible contemplation of his flavor, he realized. She hadn't lied, he thought to himself as she turned him onto his back, staring at the ridges in the roof of her mouth. She was savoring him, tasting him like a bite of the finest steak or a taste of well-aged wine. Her tongue seemed intent on examining every inch of him, leaving not a piece of him unconsidered.

That muscle carefully lifted him upwards, holding him against the ceiling he'd been staring at moments before. She could easily mash him into a pulp; yet, she carefully handled his body, tongue snaking its way along his back, curling around the curve of his rear. His legs were held tight as he hung upside-down, the muscle's blunted tip probing up between his legs.

He gasped and twisted around, legs sliding loose of her tongue to drop him with a splash into a pool of saliva below. Struggling to catch his breath in the warm air, he looked down at himself, surprised to find himself half-aroused at her exploration. Before he could think of what to make of it, though, her tongue found him again, pushing him forward until his back met the cool surface of her teeth.

It folded itself around him, the thick flesh almost molding itself around his body, shaping itself around every plane and curve. It's hold of him was absolute and inescapable, a hot, living wall cutting him off from all else in the universe. There was simply himself, one tiny being, and this creature he gave himself over to, reaching out to the limits of his perception. Her breath, the movements of her tongue, the trickle of moisture back into her throat were all he could hear; the flesh surrounding him was all he could see. If there was a world beyond the creature he now belonged to, it didn't matter anymore. She was all there was, and all there ever would be.

That muscle slithered its way under his feet, pushing him upwards along its surface; at the crest of the hill it made, he could see her throat opening up, a pit extending deep into the core of her body. He could see nothing beyond a few inches into that passage, but he knew well what waited for him: the slow process of being undone, of becoming one with this monster.

No, he realized as he slid forward, the gerridi taking one last, long taste of him before consigning him to her stomach. She wasn't quite a monster.

She craved an intimate knowledge of him; his history, who he was, where he'd lived and what he'd been, was written into his skin, his hair, the scent of his sweat and the taste of his flesh. She could feel the fat under his skin, smell the oils in his hair, sense the life of ease he'd lived secluded away in the halls of his school. The ease with which she aroused him spoke volumes of how he'd lived untouched by another; his lack of protest, the confidence with which he now surrendered himself to her.

Soon, she would open herself up to him. His consciousness would slip away, blood and bone and sinew unwoven into their simplest parts and reassembled to strengthen her own. And most of all, his song was written on her mind, an impression amongst so many others, part of the structure of her memories as surely as his body would become part of the structure of her form.

He closed his eyes and smiled, contented, even if afraid, as he passed the final horizon and became hers, forever.


End file.
